The perfect gift for every child or kid-at-heart who also loves celebrating the most eerie and thrilling night of the year, theHalloween Scare regional series offers a jaunty tale with a humorous bent—sure to ward off any creature who goes bump in the night in cities and states across the country!

Now with 78 titles highlighting different cities, states, and regions in the U.S. and Canada, each book in the Halloween Scare series features art and text created especially for a specific state or city. Fun Halloween creatures and critters haunt your favorite landmarks, including famous sites like the Statue of Liberty in New York, California’s Hollywood sign, the Mackinac Bridge in Michigan, Georgia’s Okefenokee Swamp, Churchill Downs in Kentucky, the San Jacinto Monument in Texas and the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse in North Carolina.

With its bouncing rhyme, colorful illustrations, and funny story, the Halloween Scare series is a delightful Halloween adventure for everyone who loves a silly, spooky tale. It’s perfect for younger readers who can explore their state or city and little learn more about the places and landmarks that make their homes unique.

Prepare, if you dare, for a Halloween scare,

A night of pure terror to whiten your hair.

A tale full of sights that are best left unseen. You ready? You sure?

This was my Halloween.

About the Author and Illustrator:

Eric James is a children’s book author, word tickler, and champion asparagus thrower. You can find him online atwww.ericjames.co.uk. He lives in Bath, England, with his family.

Marina Le Ray has had success both as a children’s book illustrator as well as a greeting card designer. She lives and works in Nantes, France.

Allie is devastated when her older sister commits suicide- and it’s not just because she missed her. Allie feels betrayed. The two made a pact that they’d always be together, in life and in death, but Leah broke her promise and Allie needs to know why.

Her parents hover. Her friends try to support her. And Nick, sweet Nick, keeps calling and flirting. Their sympathy only intensifies her grief.

But the more she clings to Leah, the more secrets surface. Allie’s not sur which is more distressing: discovering the truth behind her sister’s death or facing her new reality without her.

Stacie Ramey learned to read at a very early age to escape the endless tormenting from her older siblings. She attended the University of Florida where she majored in communication sciences and Penn State where she received a Master of Science in Speech Pathology. When she’s not writing, she engages in Netflix wars with her children or beats her husband in Scrabble. She lives in Florida with her husband, three children, and two rescue dogs

Liquid inspiration from the Nyquil bottle makes me feel like I should paint something for Leah. Let her know I get it now. Maybe I didn’t always when she was alive. Maybe I didn’t listen when she tried to tell me things.

I open the door and look out into the hallway. Lights off, TV on downstairs. Mom’s check-out gives me the clear shot I need. In the garage I find the white paint from the trim in my room and the tools and brushes. Everything seems really clear right now. And brilliant. I feel sort of brilliant. Like every part of my brain is working.

Back in my room I shake the can of paint and open it with a screwdriver and hammer, trying hard not to spill it on my hardwood floors. Too late.

My curtains are in the way, so I rip them off the rod. I have to stand on my window bench to reach as high as I need. I start to paint, not knowing what I’m doing until the image forms on the wall, like magic. By the time I’ve painted the point of convergence on my window where the pink diamond goes, I recognize it. I painted it like it was burned into my brain. But I guess I knew all the time even as it materialized. I’ve made Leah’s ring.

I sit back and admire my work. I hope wherever she is, she sees this and knows I’m sorry. A shooting pain goes through my head and my eyes try to adjust to the blinding light the sun throws as it sets. Spiky rays of light come from the sunburst that flashes through my painting, making it seem like it’s alive.

I blink away the brightness and try to let my eyes settle. When I open them again I’m confused. Because I see Leah standing there. Really standing there. I steady my gaze and look again. I’m not imagining it. She’s there, surrounded by light, kind of outlined in it. Like one of my rendering sketches.

I want to reach for her, ask her if she’s really here, but when I blink again, her image disappears and I know it’s just my guilt and my need that’s bringing her to me. Even if she can’t stay.

I close up the paint cans and take them and the medicine bottle downstairs. The paint and tools go back into the garage and the brush gets washed in the sink and left to dry on a bottom shelf of the garage. I turn the water on in the sink and run my hand over its stainless steel surface, careful to wash all the remnants of my painting party down the drain. Finally I wrap the medicine bottle in newspaper and push it to the bottom of the trashcan, making certain that it’s completely covered. One thing Leah taught me was how to hide your party.

When I’m done, I walk back up to my bathroom, and brush my teeth, trying not to look in the mirror too long. As if my crazy would show somehow. I crawl into bed, setting my alarm for the morning. First day of school. I put my hands together in the prayer position and put them under my cheek.

I think about what I just did and try not to worry about what it means. It’s too much allows the headache to creep back in, crouching and ready to spring. I’ll close my eyes and go to sleep, and hope that tomorrow will be okay. I know it’s not what I should be doing. I know I’m copping out, but I can’t help it.

I’m living my life in tiny squares. Checker board moves. I go forward. I go backward. I jump. Each play means something. Each turn matters. The most important thing is to keep moving. To not get jumped. Sometimes a little Nyquil helps that. They don’t call it medicine for nothing.

Skylar is a girl with extraordinary power. A girl with a mission to use her Greater-Than gifts to stop the makers of Destiny from getting people hooked on their deadly drug. But Sky is still mastering her new abilities, and her first mission to destroy a Destiny lab leaves her best friend addicted to the drug. For a few days Cal will be able to walk again – until it kills him. Time is running out for Sky to save the world without sacrificing her friends, to become truly Greater-Than…

Suzanne Brockman, a New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author, has won 2 RITA awards, numerous RT Reviewers’ Choice, and RWA’s #1 Favorite Book of the Year three years running. She has written over 50 books, and is widely recognized as a “superstar of romantic suspense” (USA Today). Suzanne and her daughter, Melanie Brockmann, have been creative partners, on and off, for many years. Their first project was an impromptu musical duet, when then-six-month-old Melanie surprised and delighted Suz by matching her pitch and singing back to her. Suzanne splits her time between Florida and Massachusetts while Mel lives in Sarasota, Florida. NIGHT SKY is Mel’s debut and Suzanne’s 55th book. Visit Suzanne at www.SuzanneBrockmann.com.

Mel: Wild Sky is a paranormal story, set in Florida, approximately fifty years in the future. In this world, a small percentage of people, mostly girls and young women, are born with a chemical in their blood that gives them superpowers like telekinesis or extraordinary strength.

Suz: Nicknamed “Greater-Thans” or “G-Ts,” these girls have been targeted for kidnapping by bad guys who harvest their blood and use it to manufacture a drug called “Destiny.” Destiny is extremely expensive, highly addictive, and ultimately fatal, but before the user dies from it, the drug reverses the aging process, heals illness and injury, and gives the addict super powers, too.

Mel: It’s pretty scary stuff! Oh, and just an FYI: Although Wild Sky is the sequel to Night Sky, you don’t have to read Night Sky for Wild Sky to make sense!

Suz: All you really need to know is that in Night Sky sixteen-year-old Skylar Reid discovers that she’s a Greater-Than with some serious superpowers.

Mel: And that Sky and her best friend Calvin–a really upbeat kid who’s spent most of his life in a wheelchair–have some dangerous adventures with another tough-girl G-T named Dana, and Dana’s extremely (ahem) attractive sidekick Milo.

Suz: Sky and Milo really hit it off, so in Wild Sky, they’re a bit of an item.

Mel: A bit! In Wild Sky, Sky and her friends get into more trouble as they search for Dana’s sister, Lacey, who disappeared years ago and has been presumed dead.

Suz: But now Sky’s got reason to believe Lacey’s being held captive in a Destiny “farm.” And of course, high jinks ensue, and our beloved character Calvin is put into extreme danger–although throughout most of it, he holds onto his crazy sense of humor!

Mel: We both love Calvin very much!

Suz: And Sky does, too! When we developed the Night Sky series, we wanted to center it around a main character we could easily relate to. And even though we grew up in very different circumstances –

Mel: Mom has an older sister, I have a younger brother. My dad was a lawyer, my mom a writer. My mom’s parents were both teachers.

Suz: I grew up listening to the Beatles –

Mel: Christina Aguilera.

Suz: Watching Star Trek.

Mel: Full House.

Suz: Paul Newman!

Mel: Bradley Cooper!

Suz: But despite all of those superficial differences, Mel and I shared experiences far too common to teenage girls. Waves of self-doubt, with occasionally soul-crushing periods of insecurity.

Mel: Yet even at our lowest moments, we knew that there were things we were really good at.

Suz: And that’s where Sky came from. A young woman whose primary goal is to fit in with her peers, but whose G-T status makes that virtually impossible. Or so she believes.

Mel: Of course, her friends recognize Sky for who she really is – a funny, loyal young woman with a huge heart — whose superpowers only add to her awesomeness. But for Skylar, nothing comes easy. Everything seems to be on shaky ground – her budding romantic relationship with Milo, her ability to help Dana find Lacey, even her friendship with Calvin.

Suz: It’s that very human mix of vulnerabilities and strengths that make Skylar so special.

Mel: We hope readers see Wild Sky as not just a really exciting, action-packed adventure, but a story about Skylar’s quest – and really every teenage girl’s quest — to own her awesome.

Suz: Because we truly believe that everyone is born with abilities that – no matter how seemingly small or insignificant — should be recognized and celebrated! It is our differences that make us Greater-Than.

Wild Sky Excerpt

IwishIcouldsayI’d never witnessedawindshieldshatter before, butI’dbeeninaterriblecaraccidentafewyearsback,soIknewexactlywhat it looked and sounded like.

Thatscreaming—ithadbeenachild’svoice.Shewassilentnow,butIrealized withaflashthatIhadn’tseenacolorfulbagbutinsteadthecheerfullypatternedclothingofalittlegirl.Thatmanwiththegun was abducting a little girl. And I bet I knew why.

“Gimme!”Isaidandreachedbacktograboneofthewatergunsfrombeside Garrett.

“Sky!” Cal exclaimed.“Don’t—”

Ididn’twaittohearwhathethoughtIshouldn’tdo.I’dyankedmyhoodupovermyhead,hidingmyredhairandasmuchofmyfaceasIcould,andIwasalreadyoutofthecarandontheasphalt,headingtowardthemanwhowasstillfiring thatgun.Hewasusingitnottokill,thankgoodness,buttokeepthelittlegirl’sfamilyfromfollowinghim.Icouldseewithjustoneglancethatshewasunconscious,ashetossedhernonetoocarefullyintothepassengerseatofhisshinyblackBimmer.Hehadanicecar.AndIwasprettysureIknewhowhe’dpaidforit—by kidnappinglittlegirlslikethisone,like Sasha, too,andselling them to the Destiny makers.

Mother. Effer.

“Hey!”Ibeltedout.Butmyvoicewasburiedbeneaththecacophonyofhisweapon.Ihadtomovefast,orhewasgoingtogetinto his snazzy car and that little girl would be gone.

Itookadeepbreathandconcentrated.Waterversusbullets?Notnormally much of a contest there.

Thegunman’swideeyesnarrowed,andwebothknewhewasn’tgoingtodrophisweapon,sobeforehecouldturnandkillme,IletloosemyTKandblastedhim.Allofthoseplasticgunsshotwater fromtheirbarrelswiththeintensityofsixteennarrowbutpowerfulfirehoses,anditsentthemandownontothegroundsohardthatIheard his head as it smacked against the pavement.

Thegunhe’dbeenholdingclatteredtotheground.

Allofmyweaponsceasedwater-fireanddroppedontothepavement infront of the unconscious shooter.

Thesilencethatfollowedwaseerie.Ifeltalittledazed,standingtherewithasingle,silly-lookingpinkwatergunstillinmyhand,staringatthedownedmanandhisbigrealgun,andthenoveratthebullet-riddledstorefront of the Sav’A’Buck.

Three months after the killer rain first fell, Ruby is beginning to realize that her father might be dead… and that she can’t survive on her own much longer.

But safety comes at a price when Ruby finds herself back in the army camp where she left Darius Spratt, her geeky ex-companion. If Ruby wants to stay, she must keep her eyes- and her mouth- shut. When she uncovers the horrifying truth about the camp she thought was an oasis of safety, she fights back and makes a shocking discovery. One that could mark the end, or the beginning, for them all…

About the Author:

Virginia Bergin works as a writer for TV, eLearning, and corporate projects. Most recently, she has been working in online education, creating interactive courses for The Open University. She lives in Bristol, England.

We pull up at a gate. There are no crowds of the useless here. It is just a gate in the middle of nowhere. I will my guts not to lurch, but they ignore me.

“All right, mate?” grins the driver, rolling down his window.

“All right?!” A soldier at the gate grins back. “What you got in there, then?”

“Drunk guy and a kid.”

The gate soldier speaks into his walkie-­talkie: “Exit confirmed.”

“Confirming exit,” a walkie-­talkie voice says back.

“On you go,” says the gate soldier as he steps back and swings open the gate.

“Cards later?” the driver yells.

“Lamb to the slaughter!” the gate soldier yells back.

“We’ll see about that,” the driver laughs to me as we bump out into the night.

It is such a starry, moonlit night—­so bright I can see exactly what the sky is thinking. It is happy to light our way for now, but it is cooking up other plans; a fat slice of sky is already missing, smothered by nimbostratus, a cloud so thick with rain not a single star shines through it. That’s pretty much how my brain feels: dark and deadly. Erm, and dense and dim. Obviously, the plan is to escape… It’s just that the precise details of how I’m going to do that are not known to me.

“He took me to the cleaners last night,” my driver is saying. “Totally skinned me.”

I do not respond. On the track ahead of us, puddles glisten.

“You want in?” the driver asks me.

I glance at him, wishing he’d just shut up so I can think. The driver hates the puddles, swears at them a lot as he tries to weave slowly around them.

“C’mon,” he says, in between a bout of swearing, “you want in on the game? I could get you in.”

A random star in my brain twinkles feebly in the gloom: My enemy’s enemy is my friend. (That’s what my history teacher said when she was trying to explain some of the jaw-­droppingly “as if!” pacts that got made in World War Two.) My enemy’s enemy is my friend.

“High stakes, though,” the driver is saying. “You need serious—­and I do mean serious—­stuff to put on the table. You got that?”

I nod. I am just looking out of the windshield, desperately trying—­trying to think.

“I’m not talking cash, mind. It’s gotta be jewelry—­good stuff—­maybe a nice piece of art. None of that modern nonsense—­”

He swears, then shuts up for a moment as he maneuvers slowly around some more puddles. My enemy’s enemy. I take a deep plasticky-­rubbery breath and then remove my helmet. I am almost certainly going to need to shout, and it will only get in the way.

“Proper paintings, that’s what people like,” he says, and glances at me—­does a shocked double take when he sees that I am just a kid. “I’m a Turner man, myself…” he says, but I can see his brain has moved on to a different subject: me.

No going back now.

I fling open the door and jump out.

“q!” he shouts, braking. “What the q hell do you think you’re doing?!”

What I am doing is scooping up a double handful of puddle water, and I am back at the door in a flash.

“Get out!” I tell him, my gloved hands dripping.

Shaking, they’re also shaking, and my voice has found its natural frightened squeak.

He stares at my hands in horror for 0.1 micrometers of a nanosecond—­then he’s out of the ambulance.

What’s supposed to happen next is I get in and drive off.

What actually happens is the soldier gets out before I can do that, gun waving between me and the driver because he can’t work out what the problem is, only that there is one.

A high school nobody recruits a crew of misfits for heists and pranks to get revenge on the mysterious Chaos Club.#DontGetCaught

How did you come up with the idea for Don’t Get Caught?

Look, who hasn’t wanted to rob a bank? Or at least hasn’t thought about it? I can’t be the only one, right? Right? So, I suppose Don’t Get Caught is my way of robbing a bank without risking actual jail time because, let me make this clear, I would not do well in prison. I love capers, heists, and schemes, and while the crew in this novel aren’t robbing banks, they are satisfying my criminal thoughts by doing the teenage equivalent of bank robbery–wrecking havoc in their high school.

Tell us about the main character.

Max is a high school nobody, a kid who’s smart enough and nice enough to get by, but who doesn’t really fit in anywhere. So basically, he’s me at sixteen. But what Max has that I certainly didn’t have is a genius-level ability to scheme and a newly discovered gift for leading misfits. He’s underestimated by everyone, a fact that works to his advantage when he decides it’s time to write his name in the wet cement of the universe by destroying a forty-year-old secret society.

Did your class in high school pull any memorable pranks? Or is there one you wish you had pulled?

My prank life didn’t begin until college when I helped mastermind a promotion for a fake campus concert that almost led to my arrest. But in my final year of high school, the six-hundred members of my senior class were crowded onto bleachers for an all-class picture. I look at that picture now and see an opportunity for chaos. I mean, how much would it have cost to hire an airplane to drop a hundred gallons of water at the precise moment the picture was taken? Or to organize a group of kids to all wear neon shirts and arrange themselves into something profane within the crowd? It’s missed opportunities like this that keep me up at night.

What books formed your thinking or reflected who you were as a child and teen reader?

I read a lot of early Stephen King probably before I was old enough, and then through high school it was mostly comic books and classics. I do specifically remember reading Helter Skelter during my junior year, dragging that non-fiction monster around with me for a month or so. Looking back on it now, that’s probably all of the evidence needed to explain why I didn’t have a girlfriend in high school.

About Don’t Get Caught:

17-year-old Max Cobb is sick of being “Just Max”—the kind of guy whose resume boasts a measly 2.5 GPA and a deep love of heist films. So when an invitation appears in his locker to join the anonymous, untraceable, epic prank-pulling Chaos Club, Max jumps at the opportunity to leave “Just Max” in the dust.

Except that the invite is really a set-up, and Max—plus the 4 other kids who received similar invitations—are apprehended by school security for defacing the water tower. This time, Max has had enough. Time for Heist Rule #6:

Always Get Payback.

Let the prank war begin…

About Kurt Dinan:

Kurt Dinan is a high school English teacher. He’s had several short stories published, including one in 2010’s The Year’s Best Dark Fantasy and Horror. He lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, with his wife, three young sons, and baby girl. Don’t Get Caught is his first novel.

Excerpt from Don’t Get Caught:

I may not be a fan of heights, but I especially hate ladders. I always think the rung I’m on is going to break away and send me plummeting. So climbing the water tower ladder in the dark, the rungs sticky for some reason, only worries me more. But despite that, I’d be lying if I didn’t say how awesome this was. The higher I climb, the harder my heart pounds from the adrenaline. I feel like a jewel thief scaling a skyscraper at midnight on his way to stealing the Hope Diamond.

Up ahead in the darkness, Wheeler goes into a mock newscaster’s voice announcing, “Five Asheville High School students fell to their deaths last evening when—”

“Shut up,” Malone says.

The climb takes only two minutes but feels like an hour when the ladder ends at the base of a metal grating no more than four feet wide. If a strong wind blows, a waist-high railing is all that’s there to keep me from hurtling to my death.

“Wow, this is higher than I thought,” Ellie says, looking out over the lights of the town.

Malone, recording everything with her phone, says, “I wish I had my climbing gear. I’d love to repel off this.”

“What was it Jesus said, Ellie?” Wheeler says. “‘I think I can see my house from up here’?”

And me, I want down. And not just down, but to roll in the grass and kiss the earth. Then, as I’m about to wuss out, Ellie’s hand is in mine and she’s leading me along the platform.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s look for the next clue.”

Her hand is soft and warm, and if the platform gives away right now, I can die a happy man.

“You get to open the next envelope if there is one,” Ellie says. “Or maybe it’ll be like in the movies, and there’ll be a cell phone that rings and—”

My foot kicks something metal sending it clanking and skittering across the platform before dropping into the night.

From the other side of the tower Malone says, “What was that?”

I look down at my feet and see four more of what I’ve just booted—spray paint cans.

And in one horrifying moment, I realize why the rungs were sticky when we climbed.

Red paint covers my hands.

Oh shit.

I lean back for a better view of the water tower to see what’s been spray-painted there. The wet paint trails down from certain letters like red teardrops.

Double shit.

Heist Rule #5: When in doubt, run.

But we don’t get that chance.

Suddenly, the water tower lights blaze to life illuminating the newly painted message for the entire town to see.

Assville High School, Home of the Golden Showers.

Both Malone and Wheeler say, “Shit.”

Ellie says, “Wow.”

Adleta says nothing.

And then a voice booms from a bullhorn below where red-and-blue lights flash in the parking lot.

Imagine a world where your destiny has already been decided…by your future self.

It’s Callie’s seventeenth birthday and, like everyone else, she’s eagerly awaiting her vision-a memory sent back in time to sculpt each citizen into the person they’re meant to be. A world-class swimmer. A renowned scientist.

Or in Callie’s case, a criminal.

In her vision, she sees herself murdering her gifted younger sister. Before she can process what it means, Callie is arrested and placed in Limbo-a hellish prison for those destined to break the law. With the help of her childhood crush, Logan, a boy she hasn’t spoken to in five years, she escapes.

But on the run from her future, as well as the government, Callie sets in motion a chain of events that she hopes will change her fate. If not, she must figure out how to protect her sister from the biggest threat of all-Callie, herself.

Author bio:

Pintip Dunn graduated from Harvard University, magna cum laude, with an A.B. in English Literature and Language. She received her J.D. at Yale Law School, where she was an editor of the YALE LAW JOURNAL. She also published an article in the YALE LAW JOURNAL, entitled, “How Judges Overrule: Speech Act Theory and the Doctrine of Stare Decisis,”

Pintip is represented by literary agent Beth Miller of Writers House. She is a 2012 RWA Golden Heart® finalist and a 2014 double-finalist. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Washington Romance Writers, YARWA, and The Golden Network.

She lives with her husband and children in Maryland. You can learn more about Pintip and her books at http://www.pintipdunn.com

**EXCERPT**

Excerpt from Chapter Four of Pintip Dunn’s Forget Tomorrow

“I can’t fight Fate. But I know who can. FuMA. I’m going to let them arrest me. Lock me up, so that I can’t fulfill my memory. Even if I want to.”

He stills. “But then you would be in detainment. For the rest of your life.”

You’ll never see the sun again, a voice inside me whispers. Never get married and have your own family. The inside of a cell will be your home for the rest of your days.

“I can’t imagine ever doing what my future self did.” I swallow hard. “But it happened. So I can’t guarantee I won’t change my mind.” I straighten my shoulders. “The safest thing for me to do is take the decision out of my hands. And FuMA’s offering to do just that.”

“Both you and the Chairwoman said it—the hand of Fate is strong. I have to take extreme measures in order to defeat it. What can be more extreme than going to detainment?”

He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, I twist away and look down the hill. “They’re coming.”

A fast-moving pack of bloodhounds drag along a blur of guards in navy and white uniforms. They’ve just begun their ascent, but the dogs are galloping up the slope, as if they can’t wait to rip me apart. I’ve got a minute, tops.

My hand closes around the black chip, and I pull it from my pocket. Without another thought, I throw it as hard as I can over the precipice. There. It’s gone. Just because I’m turning myself in doesn’t mean I have to tell them about Jessa. They don’t need any more reason to investigate her.

I turn back to Logan. His eyes pierce me with an expression of deep, unspeakable regret. Does he actually care? Underneath the years of silence and betrayal, does a kernel of friendship still remain?

“I’m sorry, Callie.”

There’s so much I want to say. I’m going away, for a very long time. This is my last chance to reconcile our old hurts. The last time to feel a real, human connection.

My last chance for a kiss. Oh, how I want to lean forward and press my lips against his. I don’t want to die having never kissed a boy.

But there’s no time. The dogs’ barks shatter the air like the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun. We hear the scuffle of feet against dirt. The officers will be on top of us at any moment.

“Go!” I shout at Logan. “Get out of here, before they

arrest you, too.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head. “Don’t. Don’t make this any harder than it is.”

With his eyebrows pulled together, Logan nods, gives my arm one last squeeze, and disappears over the other side of the hill.

This is it. My last few moments of freedom.

Turning, I raise my hands in surrender. I take a deep breath, savoring the openness of the mountain air. And then I walk straight toward the officers.

LINKS – I’ve included lots of links below! Please use whichever ones you would like and ignore the rest.

WELCOME TO HICKVILLE HIGH by Mary Karlik is a sweet, sassy, and deeply emotional YA romance about starting over, rediscovering what really matters, and learning how love conquers all – no matter who you are or where you live. You’ll be drawn in by the plucky heroine and charming hero in this upside down Cinderella story. When you go from riches to rags, finding what truly matters becomes all the more special.

Join Mary Karlik and the Killion Group as we celebrate the release of Welcome to Hickville High with this 17 stop Book Blast from October 19th to 23rd. Included in this book blast is exclusive content, guest posts from Mary, an interview, a spotlight of the book, and a giveaway. One GRAND PRIZE WINNER will receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

Follow the tour to these participating blogs for new content each day:

10/19/2015

3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy, Too!

RoloPoloBookBlog

Love, Laugh, and Read

Mignon Mykel: Reviews

Fictional Rendezvous Book Blog

Crystal’s Chaotic Confessions

10/20/2015

Yah Gotta Read This

10/21/2015

United Indie Book Blog

Hart’s Romance Pulse

10/22/2015

Miss Riki

The World As I See It

Pinky’s Favorite Reads

Kitty’s Book Spot!

10/23/2015

Swoony Boys Podcast

Nicole’s Book Musings

A British Bookworm’s Blog

Babbling About Books, and More

Title: Welcome to Hickville High

Author: Mary Karlik

Series: Hickville High

Genre: YA Romance

Release Date: October 15th 2015

Publisher: Indie Published

Print Length: 292 pages

Format: Paperback and Digital

Synopsis:

Senior Kelsey Quinn loses it all when her dad relocates the family to Hillside Texas, population Hick. She’ll do whatever it takes to return to the good life, even if it’s just for one night of dancing at a gala with the boyfriend she left behind. She trades her designer dresses for an apron to work as a dishwasher in a redneck diner. But she doesn’t plan on six feet of pure Texan, Austin McCoy entering her life. He teaches her to love the farm life she’s been forced into, but will he convince her that it’s the farm boy that goes with that life that she really wants?

Excerpt #3:

Emily and Lizzie laughed about Stephen Hartwell totaling his BMW just one month after he got it. Katie filled her in on the latest shopping trip and showed off her three-hundred-dollar Cole Hahn sandals. Kelsey nudged her scuffed Kate Spade heels under the coffee table and laughed in all the appropriate places. But after having been away from that life, it seemed outrageous that they’d laugh over crashing a car. She’d been working her ass off to pay for her wreck. She couldn’t blame them, though; she’d been just like them—probably worse.

When the conversation lulled, Kelsey look at her friends and said, “It’s so good to be back. I’ve missed you guys so much.”

Zoe said, “Welcome back to the simple life.”

They all laughed and Kelsey added, “I’m going to soak in every bit, before I have to return to Hickville.”

Lizzie smiled. “Speaking of Hickville—we have a surprise for you.” She looked around the room. “Girls, I think it’s time.”

Zoe pointed to Kelsey. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

She ran upstairs and came back with a large purple gift bag. She set it in front of Kelsey and said, “This is an homage to your life in Texas.”

Katie reached into the bag, pulled out a hot pink cowboy hat with a tiara glued to the crown, and placed it on Kelsey’s head. Next, she handed her an oversized T-shirt with a picture of the front of a diner painted on it. Early Bird Café was painted in the window and above the picture was printed Trailer Trash Palace. The girls laughed wildly and insisted she wear it. She pulled it over her blouse and tried not to feel guilty for making fun of the café. The next item was a sash with the words Trailer Trash Queen spelled out in sparkly silver letters.

She laughed with them and told them about T-bone and Sandy. Only she didn’t explain how T-bone always made her a hot lunch, or how Sandy worked extra shifts so Jenny could spend more time with her kids. Instead, she mimicked Sandy’s drawn-out twang and the way T-bone scrunched his face when he was chopping vegetables.

“Oh, and you guys have got to hear about Homecoming. They wear these ridiculous mums, they’re huge. Like, they cover the whole chest.”

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About Mary Karlik:

Following a career as a nursing instructor, award-winning author, Mary Karlik earned an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in Pennsylvania. A native Texan, Mary loves horses, dogs, cats, country music, and small town diners. Although she has recently relocated in northern New Mexico, her heart remains in the Lone Star state.